


His Vow To Her

by dreadpiratewatson



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Baby Watson, Happy Ending, John Loves Sherlock, John's daughter, Johnlock Fluff, Love, M/M, Mary is Not Nice, Parent!lock, Pining Sherlock, Pre-Divorce Teenage Angst, Protective Sherlock, Requited Love, Retirementlock (Sort of), Sherlock Loves John, Sherlock is a Good Parent, Sherlock is her godfather, Unhappy marriage, so much love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-03-16 10:25:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3484769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreadpiratewatson/pseuds/dreadpiratewatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While going off to Spain for a 'couple's therapy' mission, John leaves his and Mary's fifteen year old daughter with her godfather, Sherlock, whom he hasn't seen in seven years. The night she was born, he made one last vow to her, and has kept it all these years, and no one ever knew. Until she came back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Vow To Her

"Sherlock, thank you again for doing this." John was saying as he leaned sleepily against the doorway of 221B Baker St.

The detective raised and lowered one shoulder. "It's not a problem, John." He replied.

John Watson watched as his fifteen year old daughter pushed her way past the two men and curled up on the sofa. "I normally wouldn't just drop her here, God knows I don't want to do this, but you understand."

"Of course."

"Dad, you know I can take care of myself, right?" The teenager snapped from the sofa.

John sighed. "Sweetheart, we've been through this, you're too young." He chided gently.

"I'm fifteen!"

"Exactly. Too young to stay home for an entire weekend by yourself."

The teenager grumbled to herself and buried her face in the pillow again. "Okay, goodbye, John." She snapped.

John rolled his eyes. "Hear that, Sherlock, I'm not dad anymore, I'm John." He mumbled to his best friend. "She'll come around, she's just cranky."

"I'm perfectly capable of handling a teenager, John." Sherlock confirmed. He wasn't lying. Although he had never been much of a teenager himself, and he hadn't her in almost seven years, he knew that the two of them would probably just ignore each other and make it through the weekend without issues.

The doctor ran his fingers through his short blonde hair and glanced once more back at his daughter on the couch. "I guess I should go. Heidi Annabelle Watson, you be good, or I'll take your phone for a month, understand?" That earned him another grumble from the teenager and he chuckled. "Walk me out?" He asked, glancing up at his friend.

Sherlock nodded and shut the door behind him as they walked down the stairs as they used to. They stopped right outside the door of 221B, just standing by the door. Neither of them knew what say, but Sherlock spoke first anyway. "So, you and Mary are off to Spain?" He asked casually.

"Just for the week. She thinks it'll help, but I'm honestly not counting on it." John replied sourly. His marriage had taken a bad turn. He had found out that Mary had been having an affair with a man from work, and although he had tried to fight through it, John had had enough. She planned this week long trip to Spain as a getaway for the two of them as a way to mend what was broken, but if it didn't work, John was planning on filing for divorce the moment they got back. He had had enough. Far more than enough. "I don't even know if we'll last the week, honestly."

Sherlock rocked back on his heals uncomfortably. He would be lying if he said he wasn't pleased to hear that things had been going wrong. "Well, you're always welcome here. You know that, of course." He mustered. He didn't want to sound rude.

John chuckled. "I might take you up on that." He replied softly.

The two men stood in silence for what seemed like hours. Even after fifteen years, the mutual feeling that they never spoke of still lingered in the air around them. Even at first glance, anyone could tell that the two men were still in love, although they never said it. They never spoke of the attraction, not once, but anyone could see it. Even after all this time.

John, realizing he was still staring at Sherlock Holmes, cleared his throat and looked away. "Um... I should go."

"Yes, of course." Sherlock stuttered, still a bit dazed. "Good luck, John."

"Thanks, Sherlock. Tell Heidi I love her." He said as he let the house. But, before he disappeared completely, he turned back with a smirk. "Also, don't be afraid to scare her a bit with deductions if she acts up." He said.

The detective scoffed. "Please, John, I'm more than capable of handling a teenager."

**______________**

The first three days of Heidi Watson being at 221B were fairly quiet. Just as he predicted, he and his goddaughter basically ignored one another. She was on her phone or watching bad television shows most of the time while he was doing experiments or working on cases. They only spoke when Heidi would ask about dinner, or he asked her to bring him a file from across the room or to use her mobile to text Lestrade. It wasn't that they weren't close, it was more that neither one of them had any reason to speak to one another unless it was necessary. After seven years of little contact, this was probably all that they could muster for now.

A series of loud thumping noises echoing down the hall from the bathroom were what caught Sherlock's attention.

The detective looked up from the microscope and tilted his body backwards to see the hallway, but when he saw nothing, he went back to his work.

Another set of loud thumps followed by a shrill squeak caught his attention again. "Uncle Sherlock!" Heidi's voice came from down the hallway.

Sherlock's head snapped up. "Heidi?" He called back. She sounded frightened. The detective got up from his seat and stepped quickly down the hallway to the bathroom door. "Heidi? Is everything alright?" He asked through the wooden door.

"No!" She squeaked back. She threw them door open, her eyes wide and alarmed. "Uncle Sherlock, there is a giant spider in the shower!"

The detective did a double take. _A spider. There was a spider in the shower._ "You're frightened because of a tiny spider?" He spoke slowly, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

Heidi glared. "It's _NOT_ tiny! It's as big as my _hand!_ Kill it!" She squealed, jumping out of the bathroom and hiding behind his lithe body. "Kill it, Uncle Sherlock!"

Sherlock looked back at the young girl with a snort. "Your father would be so pleased."

"My father always kills the spiders in my shower, now kill it!" Her voice kept getting higher.

"Alright, alright."

The man slid into the tiny bathroom and pulled the shower curtain back to reveal the troublesome arachnid that was clinging helplessly to the wall, trying to avoid the water that cascaded down. As he suspected, Heidi had completely overreacted about the size of it; it was only roughly the size of a quarter. It was harmless. Sherlock scoffed. "This is what you were frightened of? No wonder, it's massive. I'm surprised it didn't eat you." He mocked.

"Uncle Sherlock, I swear to god, _kill the bloody thing!"_ Heidi squeaked once again. She sounded furious with him, which only made him laugh.

Sherlock sauntered out into the kitchen and gabbed a cup and piece of paper, then came back. Heidi Watson was still standing out in the hallway a good distance away from the bathroom door. She was staring into the shower, eyes jumping around wildly. He thought it was rather comical. He had never understood the imbelic fear of spiders that most teenagers had. He found it stupid and time consuming. However, he took care of it. He got the small spider out of the way of Heidi Watson, and carried it down to the end of the hallway where he took it outside.

"There!" He called back to Heidi, who was still standing in the hallway. "I got rid of the scary spider."

Heidi's lips twisted up into a smile and she nodded. "Thank you." She replied softly.

He waved her off and went back to his microscope and his notes. "Is that all?" He demanded, although it came out a bit more rude than he actually wanted.

She nodded. "I'm going out with some friends after I shower." She told him. When he didn't respond, she chuckled. "I had forgotten how little you care sometimes. Dad would want to know where I was going, who I was with, how many boys, all that jazz."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow although he didn't look up from his microscope. "I don't need to know where you and that boy from school are going. It's perfectly obvious." He said, making her jaw drop. "No, I'm not going to attempt to keep you home, nor am I going to warn your father, since it would be pointless."

Heidi looked utterly stunned. She kept trying to speak, but no words came out, only stutters.

"However, I do advise you be home before ten, considering your father will probably call anywhere between ten fifteen and eleven, and I would very much like to stay out of the 'I let your daughter out on a date with a boy' conversation, so do be home on time."

The Watson daughter nodded. "Of course, I will be."

Sherlock glanced up at her for the first time, not missing the excited gleam in her eyes that so closely matched John's. "And you know what to do if you run into... Any trouble." He asked, inclining his head toward her mobile on the coffee table.

Heidi smiled. "Of course. Call Uncle Mike."

"Good girl." He said, turning his head back to his slides and waving her off. "Now go get ready for your date before I change my mind."

**______________**

Sherlock Holmes never considered himself an overprotective man. He never even expected to be considered as an uncle, let alone godfather. When John told him that he wanted Sherlock to be the baby's godfather, he was almost as shocked to the core as he had been when he was made his best man.

He and John had been working a triple homicide when they got the call from Mary saying that she was in labor. They went to the hospital, Mary screamed, John panicked, and Sherlock just sat there in silence, blocking out the noise. When Heidi was born, the happy couple rejoiced, their petty, domestic squabbles subsiding for just a while as they marveled down at the beautiful baby girl. Tears were shed, and Sherlock, who had long been forgotten, was sitting in the back of the room, unsure where to look.

At one point, he got up to leave, hoping to slip out unnoticed like he had at the wedding, and John stopped him before he got down the hall. 'I'm going to need you tonight, mate. Stay. Please. I think your goddaughter would like to meet you before you go running off.' 

And how could he say no to that?

Later that night, when Mary and John had fallen asleep, Heidi began stirring, and the nurse brought the baby in to the parents, but Sherlock, against his better judgement, reached for the baby himself. He held the small baby in his arms, analyzing every inch of her small, delicate face. He could see just how much she looked like John, even as a baby, but with the soft, feminine features of her mother. He had never thought of babies as 'beautiful', they were just loud, messy nuisances that complicated everything, but... That small baby was something different.

He held her to himself for nearly two hours before he finally came to, and at that moment, he made one more vow. Just one. 'Heidi Annabelle Watson,' He whispered, just in case John or Mary woke up. 'I know you can't understand a word I'm saying, and at the wedding, I said I'd never make another vow in my life, but I suppose I can make one more, just for you. I, William Sherlock Scott Holmes, vow to protect you in every aspect of your life.' He gazed over at John, who was sleeping soundly in the chair besides Mary's bed, snoring quietly. 'Your daddy is a great man. He will love you until his heart gives out. He might not love me the way I do him, and I know that you don't belong to me, but I vow to love and protect you as just as much as he does. I don't have a single clue what a godfather is supposed to do, but I promise you that I will never let you down. If it is the last vow I ever make, I will be happy to know I made it to you.'

And he kept it. Every day of his life, he always kept that vow.

As Heidi was growing up, although he didn't know how exactly to take care of a child, he spent time with her whenever John and Mary's schedule would permit a meeting. They'd bring her over to Baker St. where the child, the one who was so beautiful, even so young, simply because she was John's, would play with anything she could get her hands on (nothing toxic or bad, Sherlock always made a point to put his experiments away whenever Heidi came over). She spent the night a few times, but Mary didn't exactly like it, although it made John ecstatic.

When she turned eight, she was forbidden from ever seeing Sherlock again.

It was a harmless experiment. Sherlock had it in the refrigerator, and he left the room for five minutes, leaving Heidi by herself. She wanted to see, so she opened the door and picked up a random chemical, pouring it in the mix. The experiment exploded, there was glass everywhere, chemicals on the floor, and a very frightened Heidi. Sherlock came running out, realized what happened, decided to take her to A&E just to be safe. John, being a doctor, found out immediately and rushed to the hospital. Sherlock begged and pleaded that John not be angry with him, that it was all harmless and John just waved him off with a simple 'I believe you, now where's my daughter?'

Mary on the other hand, hadn't taken it so lightly. When she arrived at the hospital, she threatened to have security throw Sherlock out, and told him he was never allowed to see Heidi ever again. She and John argued, and eventually John told him that he would work it out with her. He wanted Heidi to be able to see Sherlock too as much as the detective wanted to see her.

But that hadn't changed a thing. For seven years after that, Sherlock had seen Heidi only on special occasions. It got harder each year. The last time he had been really involved in her life was when she was thirteen and started begging John and Mary for a phone. When that started up, Sherlock (with permission from John of course), went to Mycroft and had him install an application that was used as an emergency outlet. If Heidi ever found herself in any type of danger, whether it be she's being followed, attacked, or a boy is coming on too strong, all she has to do was press one button, and twenty of Mycroft's men would be alerted and at her exact location within ten minutes. Mycroft had joked about how it was a truly sentimental gift, and Sherlock never denied it once. Because he had made a promise.

So when Heidi Watson came home at nine thirty on the dot and slammed the door behind her in an obvious rage, soaking wet from the rain, the instinct that he had to protect her flashed through his head once again.

The detective peered up at her over the microscope when she came in, her pretty blonde hair falling in wavy locks around her shoulders and her make up smeared from the tears. He looked her over, assessing the damage. _Boy ended up being a pig. He already had a girlfriend, he just wanted Heidi as a 'second option'._ Heidi, in turn, said nothing. She only wiped her eyes and went out to put the kettle on the stove for a cup of tea.

Sherlock could tell by her body language that she needed help. When her back was turned, he got to his feet, made it across the room in only a few steps, then did the most out of character thing for him; he wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug, crushing the teenager to his chest.

If it had been anybody else, her dad, her mom, anybody, Heidi Watson would have thrown out a punch or snapped at the embrace, but... This wasn't just a regular person. This was her godfather. The man who had taken care of her when she didn't know where to turn as a child. She turned her body around to better access the hug, and allowed herself to be comforted. She breathed in his scent, one that was almost homey, one that she had attributed to safety as a child. They had barely seen each other in seven years, and she wasn't going to let go of him now.

Heidi allowed him to pull her over to the couch and sit her down. Sherlock was never one for comforting anybody and he was obviously uncomfortable, but neither of them said anything about it. They sat in silence for a few moments before the pretty blonde's phone went off and she threw it across the living room into John's chair. She peered up at Sherlock after doing so and let out a heavy breath. "Do I need to explain what happened, or have you already figured it out?" She asked cooly.

"I've already figured it out." Sherlock answered. _It wasn't hard._ He wanted to say, but refrained from doing so. "Heidi... You know, I don't have any idea what I'm supposed to do here, but..."

She let out a small laugh. "You don't have to do a damn thing." She interrupted. "I don't really want to talk about it anyway. I've deleted his number and I don't plan on seeing him again. Or speaking to him. It's a pointless gesture." By the time she finished her sentence, her voice had cracked and she wiped a tear from her face is one furious swipe, as if she was embarrassed about crying.

_Come on, Sherlock, you're smart, make her laugh._ He scolded himself. "You know, Heidi, if you want, we could set your dad on him. Your daddy was a soldier, he'll put the fear of God in him." He commented, knowing it was true. John was very, very protective of his little girl.

Heidi gave him a weird look. "Please, if my father knew that you let me go out on a date with a boy, he'd put the fear of God in us." She replied.

The detective scoffed. "I don't have time to be frightened of such things." His comment made her laugh again, and he could tell by the way the way the air around them changed that she was feeling better. "Of course, there's always another option is you want to scare him. I'm sure my brother would be happy to scare him a bit. He _is_ the British government after all."

"Oh, so tempting..." Heidi snickered. She was smiling again. That was good. Eventually, she sighed and ran her fingers through her sopping wet hair, brushing it over one shoulder. "Thanks, Uncle Sherlock." She whispered, leaning into him and wrapping her arms around the detective's thin torso.

He hesitated, but returned the hug. He could honestly say that he had missed her. He had missed her a lot.

Her phone began buzzing on the chair a few feet away, and the girl pulled herself out of Sherlock's grip with an aggravated sigh. "I swear to god, if that's Tyler..." She grumbled as she hauled herself off of the couch.

"Unlikely." Sherlock answered.

Heidi picked up the phone and sighed in relief. "It's dad." She replied, answering the call and holding it to her ear. "Hi, daddy." She said. There was a brief pause as John's voice came through. "I sound weird? No, I'm fine, honestly." She replied, then proceeded to roll her eyes. "Yes, daddy. How's Spain?" She asked. There was another pause, and her face changed to hopeful very briefly, but she quickly hid it. "That's good." Pause. "Yeah, he's right here, hold on." She held the phone out for Sherlock. "Dad wants to talk to you."

The detective took the mobile from her outstretched hand and held it to his ear. "John." He greeted.

"Sherlock, hey!" The doctor exclaimed. "How is everything?"

Sherlock watched as his goddaughter disappeared upstairs to get some dry cloths. "Things are going well. I told you was perfectly capable of handling a teenager." He answered proudly.

He could almost hear John rolling his eyes. "That's good I guess then." He replied uncomfortably. His voice suddenly sounded very weary and the detective could tell immediately that something was wrong.

"John, is there something wrong?" He asked.

John respired, and there was a distinct sound of Mary talking in the background. Once that was too out of range for Sherlock could hear, he heard the shutting of a door. "Sherlock, is Heidi in the room with you?" He asked slowly.

"No."

"Good." John replied. "I don't want her knowing this."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Hearing what?" Although he was certain he already knew.

The doctor let out a heavy breath, as if trying to prepare himself for the words he was about to speak. It was like going into battle. "Sherlock... This isn't working out, this whole trip thing. Mary and I aren't working out. I think... I think I'm going to leave Friday as opposed to Sunday." He lamented, his voice weak and tired and just all around fed up.

It took a moment for his words to sink in. Sherlock tried to comprehend what he was saying, but it didn't work. "So..." He tried to say.

"We're getting a divorce, Sherlock." John intercepted. Although he sounded tired, he didn't sound sad. He sounded more relieved than anything. "I need you to not say anything to Heidi about it. I want to be the one to tell her. This is going to hurt."

Sherlock, having finally wrapped his head around what was happening, cleared his throat. "Of course not. I won't say anything." He replied honestly. _But if she guesses, I will tell her the truth._ He added silently.

"Thanks, mate." John breathed. "Also, I'll probably need a place to stay when I get back, so..."

"Of course you can stay here." Sherlock said a little too quickly. He couldn't help it though, although he was sorry his friend's marriage was over, the thought of John moving back into 221B Baker St. sent a rush of excitement all through his body. "I'd love you to stay here." He said, slower than he had before.

"Thank you, Sherlock. For all of this." John mumbled into the other line. "Look, I have to go, I'll see you Friday?"

Sherlock nodded, although he knew John couldn't see. "Yes. Friday."

"Tell Heidi I love her."

"Of course."

The line went dead and Sherlock stood there silently, wrapping his head around the thought of John finally coming back after all these years. John was coming home. John was coming _home._ He kept repeating himself over and over and over. The words felt so great to say, even if it was just in his head. John was coming home.

Heidi Watson came back downstairs, her clothes changed, and her hair dried and swept to the side, and she made a quick trip to the kitchen for a glass of water before joining him in then living room. Her face was cleaned, and she looked brighter and happier than she had a few minutes ago. "Hey. What's with dad?" She asked with a smile.

Sherlock blinked. He was still facing an all time high knowing John was coming back that it took him a minute to recognize that she was there. "Hm? Oh, nothing." He said, attempting to sound convincing. "He was just talking about the trip. Things are going good. He wanted me to tell you he loves you."

Heidi raised an eyebrow, searching her godfather's face for any sort of doubt, but eventually shrugged. "Alright." She let the conversation drop.

Only an hour later, the two were eating Chinese take out and watching a terrible horror movie that was scaring Heidi to death, but Sherlock was rolling his eyes at. Heidi was oddly quiet--not that she wasn't normally, she gained a sense of silence from her father--and Sherlock found himself occasionally glancing over at her frequently. He studied her a lot, and he could tell that she was very tense. Her body was rigid like a soldiers on alert, but her eyes were calm and collected. Her arms were placed almost strategically around her torso in a loose fashion, although she looked like she could lash out and snap someone's neck at any given moment. She made very little movement, only to occasionally pick at her barely touched plate of food.

Sherlock began to wonder if she had overhead the conversation he had had with John. Maybe she already knew of her parents' impending divorce, and the horrendous anger and betrayal was already setting in. It was hard to tell, considering her combative stature, but it was as good as any guess.

With careful movement, the detective reached out and lay a gentle hand on her arm. "Heidi?"

"Hm?" She made no movement whatsoever.

"Look at me." He ordered gently. She turned her head very little and peered up at him through her thick eyelashes. He didn't even need to speak again before he saw it all. In one glance, he could see it, but he wanted her to say it. She was Heidi Watson, not a client. The deductions he made about her, he often kept to himself. He swallowed hard, his mouth going dry. "Are you alright?"

The teenager scoffed and got up. "Yeah, I'm fine." Her voice cracked, and he could see her trying to angrily wipe a tear from her face without him seeing.

Sherlock got off of the couch and took hold of her arm, pulling her back to him. "No you're not. Don't make me deduce you." He threatened, knowing it would make her laugh.

It did. "I'm fine." She lied.

"Heidi." He warned.

Heidi sighed and sat back down on the sofa, hunched over against her elbows that were resting on her knees, her head hanging down so he couldn't see her face. "I don't want to say it, because I'm ashamed of it." She whispered. She waited for an answer, but there was none. "I heard you talking to my dad today."

Sherlock's heart sunk. He knew it.

"Uncle Sherlock... Are they getting a divorce?" Her question came out strangled and broken, and for a moment, he wanted to lie to her and tell her they weren't, but he knew he couldn't lie to her. "Please don't lie."

What could he do? He could lie and she'd find out from them later, which would break her heart, since she trusted him, or he could tell her the truth and it would hurt her. He was stuck. He thought it would be easy, but nothing about it was. "Heidi, I..."

"Please?" She pleaded.

In that moment, he knew he had no choice. He took a deep breath in through his nose and silently begged John to forgive him for this. "I... I believe so, yes."

Her head shot up, her eyes locking with his, then jumped off the couch and walked a few steps away, her hand covering her mouth. He could hear her crying softly behind him, no matter how hard she tried to hide it from him.

Sherlock got off of the floor, mentally kicking himself for saying anything. It was a stupid mistake. He reached for his goddaughter, but he ripped herself out of his grip and pulled away. "Heidi, you need to understand, your parents do not love you any less, it's just..."

"You think I'm upset because they're getting divorced?" She demanded angrily against her tears as she whirled around to face him.

He froze, taking in the emotion on her face. It took him less than a minute to understand it. "Oh." He answered. "You... _Want_ them to get divorced."

Heidi hung her head in shame. "You got know what it's like to see them like that and want nothing more than for them to see them separate. It's _horrible._ You're not supposed to wish for the downfall of a marriage. It doesn't work like that. It's _wrong._ Everything about it is just wrong, but..." She sucked in a sharp breath and glowered at the door. "I hate them together. My dad is the greatest person I've ever met and my mum treats him like shit. She cheated on him not once, but _twice._ She lies, she hurts him, and I hate it. My dad deserves better than that. So much better than her." She staggered back under the weight of her own words and decided to go back to the sofa to sit down.

Sherlock hesitated, but eventually went to sit beside her. _Listen to her. You owe her that in this situation. She's your goddaughter, not a client._ "So... You're feeling guilty because you want them to get a divorce?" It wasn't a question so much as it was a general statement.

She nodded very slowly, keeping her eyes fixed on the ground. "It's not supposed to be that way. A child isn't supposed to think of her own mother that way... But I do. I've been against my mother for a while. She thinks it's teenage drama, you know, primitive nonsense, but it isn't."

"What is it?"

She faltered, but eventually spoke. "A few months ago, dad was working late, so it was just me and mum. I came downstairs to get something to eat, and I heard my mum on the phone with someone, and... She was talking about you." She whispered.

Sherlock's heart froze. Flashbacks of betrayal and rage came back to him although he hadn't thought about that night in years. The night Mary Watson decided to put a bullet through his chest. Why would she be talking about him? Was she back in the game? Or was it just more senseless gossip about how weird he was?

"She was talking about that day when I was eight and I blew up half the kitchen." She told him, as if she knew what he was thinking. He relaxed slightly, but quickly tensed up again, remembering that day vividly. "Whoever it was she was talking to asked her a question and she said 'no, he hasn't been allowed to see her. As far as Heidi is concerned, Sherlock cut ties with her and refuses to see her'." Her voice cracked and she buried her face in her hands while Sherlock took in the shock and betrayal.

He was angry. _Very_ angry.

Mary had told Heidi that Sherlock wanted nothing to do with her, and that's why she had been so cold the last few times they met. She was convinced that he didn't want to see  _her._

Heidi let out a sound that mimicked a soft sob. "I'm so sorry, Uncle Sherlock, I should have known." She croaked.

Sherlock wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to him, resting his chin on top of her head. He breathed out heavily, ruffling her hair in the process. "Heidi Annabelle Watson, this was _not_ your fault." He told her firmly, but lovingly. He pushed her away from his body and lifted her chin to gaze into her eyes, holding her there with his arms. "You're not the only person Mary has deceived." He knew that was a dangerous thing to say, given the circumstances, but in that moment, nothing else mattered but Heidi Watson.

The teenager's gaze softened and she pulled away, only to rest her head on his shoulder. She stayed like that for quite a while, just breathing evenly, and Sherlock let her. He loved his goddaughter. There was no mistaking that. Sometimes he wished that she was his. Not only because he loved her as much as he did, but because Mary wouldn't be able to hurt her. Mary wouldn't be able to lie to her.

Sherlock Holmes wasn't one for fantasizing, but when he did, they were wonderful. They would be the perfect family; John being the over protective father that cleans out his guns in front of the boys, Sherlock would scold him and deduce everything about the boys Heidi brought home. They'd still work on cases, Heidi would be in school, and occasionally, when John wasn't home, Sherlock would teach her how to deduce crime scenes. There'd be late night homework sessions where Sherlock would help her, and the two parents would attend every football game of hers. They'd have dinner together, spend nights watching movies, John and Sherlock sprawled out on the couch while Heidi curled up in the chair... Then prom and graduation would come along and little Heidi would get all dressed up and John would probably cry... And so would he. He normally didn't fantasize, but it was all too beautiful. He wanted it.

But that's all it was; a fantasy.

"Uncle Sherlock?" Heidi whispered suddenly, breaking his concentration. She pulled away from him and smiled so sweetly that for a moment, his break melted. She suddenly looked eight years old again. _God, it's been so long._ "Thank you for... For telling me. I won't tell dad, I swear, I just... Thank you." She repeated in a hushed tone.

The detective smiled nervously. "You deserve to know. I knew you'd figure it out, you're not as stupid as some of the other fifteen year olds out there." He normally didn't hand out compliments, but she was different.

Heidi snorted. "Tell that to my teachers."

"Your teachers are clueless. I could teach you better than they do."

"I might take you up on that. Anything to get out of Fletcher's class. I have no clue how he managed to become an English teacher."

Heidi's gaze fell across the room to a photograph on the wall. It was a wedding photo of John and Mary that Sherlock had kept, but made sure to keep out of sight. He spent years trying not to look at it, just because of how much it hurt. He hadn't expected Heidi to see it, and now he was wishing he had tucked it away somewhere. She trailed her fingers along the pretty silver frame, her eyes flashing between her parents' faces. "He looked so happy then." She whispered rather sadly.

Sherlock stepped up behind her and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "At the time he was. But, your dad's a really nice guy, I highly doubt that he'll have any trouble finding someone else. If he wants to, of course."

"I'd rather see him with you."

The detective's blood ran ice cold from pure shock. He knew Heidi couldn't have possibly meant what she had just said in the same way that he had taken it. "Pardon?" His attempt at making his voice appear even was useless.

The blonde gazed up at him with a slightly embarrassed smile spreading across her face. "He'd be happier if he was back here with you. You should see how he gets when he tells me about your old cases. It's really, _really_ incredible. He gets all excited and happy and his eyes light up... God, he's worse than me sometimes, and I'm fifteen."

Sherlock felt himself turn a deep scarlet color as he thought of John Watson looking all giddy and happy over _him._ His was a stunning thought. "What do you mean _worse?"_ He stammered. He wanted to kick himself for doing so, because Sherlock Holmes did not stutter.

"He looks like a lovesick school girl when he talks about you sometimes when mom isn't around. He blushes and smiles and tells me stories, and then, the moment mom comes in, he gets all quiet and stops talking. Some days he'll read about a case being solved in the paper or online, and he looks... Well, to be honest, he looks really sad. It's like he's lovesick and homesick all at the same time, and it honestly gets to me sometimes to see him so sad." Heidi paused, then quickly smiled, like a fond memory had just greeted her with a joke. "You know, there was a time when I was younger, maybe about six, it was one of the nights I stayed over, do you remember?"

Sherlock nodded. How could he forget?

Heidi giggled to herself, but it was more just out of happiness than humor. "Well, we were in the car heading home and I asked him 'daddy, do you love uncle Sherlock?' and he just laughed and said 'of course, I do, he's my best friend.' so, of course, me, being a curious six year old, I asked him why he never married you instead. Dad got all quiet and he finally said 'well... Uncle Sherlock was never the marrying type.'"

Sherlock's chest nearly burst. It wasn't 'because I don't love him like I love your mommy' or the old 'I'm not actually gay' routine (which of course, would be difficult to explain to a six year old anyway), it was 'Sherlock was never the marrying type'. He could have said anything, but instead, he said that. _Maybe the feeling was mutual after all._ He thought hopefully.

Heidi Watson placed the photograph face down on the table almost strategically before turning to face him. "If my dad had asked you..."

"He was already engaged by the time I came back into his life." Sherlock stuttered.

The blonde cringed. She knew all about the fall. "I know, but putting that aside, if my dad had asked you, if he had never married my mom, would you have said yes?"

His heart was pounding so loud he could barely hear himself think. _Come on, old boy, think of something to say, be vague, be clear, just say something to get out of this._ He scrambled for something to say. "If he hadn't married her, you wouldn't have been born."

"That's not what I asked."

Sherlock sighed and looked up at the ceiling, which was _very_ interesting. Could be be truthful about this? He had never admitted this to anyone-although most everyone had guessed to begin with-and he never once expected to have to explain this to a fifteen year old. Especially the fifteen year old daughter of John Watson. John wasn't gay, he spent years trying to convince everyone he was straight. Besides, he never once expressed interest in Sherlock, and if he did, Sherlock would have known. He looked back down at her, watching her piercing blue eyes bore holes into his. He felt like a bug under a microscope, and for just a moment, he sympathized with every criminal he had ever interrogated. "Heidi..." He started to say, quickly trying to swallow the words back down. "Heidi, if your father had shown _any_ interest back then, I would have said yes in a heartbeat." He confessed. It was hard enough to admit it to himself, let alone anyone else.

Heidi remained perfectly still as she watched his face. Finally, she nodded. "If he did now, when he comes back, if he were to..."

"Yes." He made no hesitation before answering. He was already confessing, he might as well continue.

A warm smile broke out across the young girl's face. "I would have loved to have you two for parents." She replied simply before pressing a kiss to his cheek, saying a swift goodnight, then running off to her room while Sherlock stood there, completely stunned.

Finally, the detective dragged his feet across the floor to the sofa where he sat down, picked up his violin, and began to play as he ran through his mind palace, opening every door that was filled with John Watson.  
**_____________**

John came back on Friday as he had said. He arrived at 221B a little after noon, and immediately scooped his daughter up in a hug. He looked exhausted, as the trip with Mary had left him, but he also seemed to be glowing with a new light that shines brighter than any specimen on Earth as he strolled through the door. As he hugged his daughter, he locked eyes with Sherlock Holmes who was sitting on the other side of the room in his chair, reading a case file. They exchanged a glance that was nothing short of _welcome home._

That night, John explained everything to Heidi, who cried, but made it clear that she wanted to stay at 221B and no where else. She put on a good show in seeming upset, but John gave Sherlock a questioning look when she went to bed finally.

"Did you tell her?" John asked him calmly.

Sherlock didn't look back from his computer, but shook his head. "She figured it out on her own. She's not an idiot."

The doctor laughed and glanced back at the staircase. "Not even close. But, you wouldn't have let her grow up dumb."

"Never."

John leaned back in his chair like he had in the old days, resting comfortably where he sat. "She wants to be an investigative journalist. She says you're the reason why. When she told us, Mary was furious, but I was proud. I know you don't exactly like journalists, but she-"

"Heidi would be exceptional at it." Sherlock interrupted. John had a point, he didn't like journalists, but he would make an exception for her. Although he had been absent for the last half of her life due to Mary's lie, he had taught her well. He knew she would be capable of deducing things if she tried.

There was a lingering tension in the silence of the room after he stopped speaking, and it was obvious that there was something that John needed to say. He had said nothing about the Mary situation, not like he needed to, but with the tension he left behind, Sherlock was almost tempted to ask.

Finally, John leaned forward and locked his eyes with the detective's, the intensity behind them almost unnerving. "Sherlock, I need to talk to you about something." He stated blatantly.

Sherlock, seeing the expression on his friend's face, closed the laptop and set it off to the side. "Alright." It sounded more like a question than anything else.

The doctor shifted uncomfortably in his seat while he mauled over the words that were stuck in his throat. "It's something I've needed to say for a long time, but for obvious reasons, I couldn't. But, because it's not a problem anymore, I want to talk."

"Go on." His voice shook a bit.

John pursed his lips. "The night Heidi was born, I woke up around two, and I saw you holding her. You were whispering to her, and I heard you say something that has stayed with me for years. "

_Oh, God._ Sherlock tried to hide the sudden panic that swept over him.

The doctor glanced up for a brief moment, but quickly looked away. "You uh... You told her that you knew I didn't love you the way you loved me. Did you mean it?"

_Fuck. Fuck!_ Sherlock's heart began to race. "Did you mean it when you said you loved me and the only reason you didn't ask me to marry you was because you thought I wasn't the marrying type?" He blurted out, regretting them the moment they came flying out of his mouth.

John blinked. "I thought she had forgotten about that." He whispered.

"But did you mean it?"

There was a short hesitation, but it felt agonizingly long in Sherlock's eyes. Too long. He hated waiting, especially when it was about something this important, which it rarely ever was. Patience was not in his nature. He felt like a patient in the infirmary waiting for a diagnosis that would change his life.

Then finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the doctor nodded. "Yes."

The detective's heart skipped a beat.

"Did you?"

"Yes." Sherlock wanted to kick himself for how weak his voice sounded, but he couldn't help it.

John bit his lip. "You did?"

"Yes."

The doctor leaned forward, face just inches from Sherlock's. The younger man could almost feel feel the heat radiating off of him. He could smell the tea on his breath, he could see the flecks of brown in his eyes, the same eyes that had locked with his in the lab of Bart's all those years ago. _Let me kiss you, John._ He begged silently. _Let me kiss you, please._ He leaned in closer, just at an attempt to capture the man's lips...

Until John pulled away.

He took Sherlock's breath with him when he pulled away, although it was only a fraction of an inch. The doctor could see the terrified desperation in his friend's eyes, and he tried to sooth it by gently placing his hand on the man's thigh. "I'm going to ask you a question, and I need you to answer it honestly. Can you do that for me?"

That liquid honey voice would have sent Sherlock to the floor if he hadn't already been sitting down. Instead it sent him down a lightheaded spiral, making him barely coherent enough to answer the question. He nodded slowly.

John leaned in closer to his face, now just centimeters away from kissing him. "If I had asked you to marry me all of those years ago... Would you have said yes?"

"Yes." Sherlock made no hesitation in answering. Of course he would have said yes."

John's face lit up, and without another word, he pressed his lips to Sherlock's pulling the detective toward him, finding sanctuary in the kiss. That beautiful, terrifying, long over-due, oh, so tender and loving kiss.

**~Two Years Later~**

"Have you got your pepper spray?"

"Yes, dad."

"Have you got your phone?"

_"Yes,_ dad."

"Have you got you-"

"Dad, I've got everything."

It was the night of Heidi Watson's prom, and John was already driving her up the wall. Sherlock was smirking from his spot on the sofa, just watching as the doctor trailed Heidi around like a bodyguard with his little mental checklist of precautionary things for her to carry.

They had already met the boy. He wasn't what they had thought of when they came home from a case one night and he was sitting on the couch with a dozing Heidi in his lap. He was a big guy, as tall as Sherlock and probably just as muscular as John, with a curly mop of jet black hair and a septum piercing, not at all what they would expected from Heidi. John had nearly lost his mind, but Sherlock quickly deduced everything about him, and deemed him worthy of dating her. He was a nice kid, very polite, pretty intelligent, good family, didn't smoke, didn't drink, didn't party, he was just a little different. She and John had argued for a good hour before Sherlock finally spoke up. John, of course, later that night told Sherlock to get Mycroft to run a background check on him, which came back clean. While John had accepted the idea of an alternative boyfriend, he was still cautious of the boy.

"Heidi, what about your-"

The blonde gave Sherlock a desperate look-which was returned with a smirk-before turning back to face her dad. "Yes, dad, I have my phone, I have my pepper spray, I have my phone, I have my Grach, I've got Thor's hammer on standby and there's a tank outside ready to take me to the dance."

Her sarcasm was enough to make the detective chuckle, but of course, John wasn't taking it lightly. He gave her a grave look. "Heidi Annabelle, I'm serious, _do you have everything?"_ He demanded.

"John, she has everything, I thought established this already." Sherlock said in the same tone he'd use to say 'do keep up, John'.

The doctor glared at him from across the room. _"You_ are not helping."

There was a knock at the door and Heidi quickly flitted back to her room to get on her dress, leaving John to open the door. "Evening, Matt." He said.

"Evening sir." Came the familiar voice. Eighteen year old Matthew Braddock stepped through the front door, dressed in a black-on-black-tie suit. Sherlock could smell the nice cologne from across the room. He had a nice smile as he shook John's hand. "Evening, Mr. Holmes." He called.

Sherlock got to his feet and went to shake the teenager's hand. "Evening."

Matt kept his grin as he glanced between the two men. "I promise to have her home by midnight. No later." He vowed.

John forced a smile. "Good." He said a little too gruffly. Sherlock reached out and placed a hand on his husband's shoulder, giving him a look that read 'play nice', as he often told Sherlock to do with clients.

Heidi Watson stepped out of the bathroom, now in her gorgeous prom dress that made all three men catch their breath. Sherlock had helped her pick it out, so he already knew what it looked like, but he hadn't expected her to look so stunning. It was black organza silk that fell down in elegant waves to the floor and allowed just enough room for her shoes to poke out underneath. The top was ruffled and was held by straps that lay gracefully on her shoulders. Her hair was curled and falling in beautiful ringlets on her back. Her make up (compliments of Molly Hooper) was stunning, and Sherlock couldn't help but feel that she looked well into her twenties instead on seventeen. She was going to be the most dazzling person that night. There was no stopping her now.

Matt was utterly speechless when she approached him and he pulled her in for a quick kiss, which made her laugh. "Don't you clean up nicely." She commented, looking down at his tux.

The boy chuckled. "Only for you. No one else in worth it."

That made her blush.

John cleared his throat. "Alright, Mrs. Hudson wants pictures, so we should head downstairs." He said, obviously uncomfortable.

"Wait, Heidi, come here." Sherlock intercepted, motioning for Heidi to join him. "John, Matt, you go ahead, we'll be right down."

John gave a questioning look but eventually clapped Matt on the shoulder and lead him downstairs after receiving another 'play nice' look from his partner.

Heidi stepped up to Sherlock with a puzzled expression. "What? What did I do?" She asked.

The detective shook his head. "Nothing, I just wanted to ease your worry." He said, which made her relax. "You look... Stunning." He told her honestly, looking her over. "Absolutely stunning. You should have seen Matt's face. He looked like he was going to faint."

"So did my dad."

Sherlock laughed, tucking a stray piece of hair down behind her ear. "I took the liberty of putting my credit card in your wallet. Just in case you should need anything." He didn't actually know what _anything_ meant, but he did mean it. "I'll try to keep your dad from checking his phone for the time every five minutes, since you and I both know he will."

Heidi giggled. "Of course he will. I hope he's being nice to Matt. He really is a nice guy."

"Oh, John knows that. He's just being the overprotective father. He doesn't like to think that his little girl is growing up. It terrifies him, but he won't show it." He sighed and looked her over one more time. "I hate to admit it, but it's a it of a shock for me too. I didn't see you for seven years, and now here you are, off to prom." His voice broke, although he had attempted to keep it from doing so.

Heidi Watson's eyes filled with tears, and she threw her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her height. He was taken aback by the sudden contact, but he accepted it. "I love you, dad." She whispered in his ear.

Sherlock Holmes never expected to ever hear someone call him dad. It came as a shock, but set into his bones in a welcome way. He never thought he'd love it so much, but he did, and now, years and years after he made that vow in the hospital, he suddenly didn't want to let her go. But he wouldn't her see how much it effected him. Only after she was gone. "I love you too." He kissed her forehead, then gently pushed her away. "Come on, now, don't ruin your make up." He chided, wiping a tear from her eye with his fingertip, just lightly enough so that he wouldn't smudge the mascara. "Your date's probably wondering where we are." With a hand on the small of her back, he led her away, smiling to himself as the door behind him shut.

**_____________**

John Watson did end up crying that night, sometime around ten thirty. They had chased a robber down the street, and now they were watching from afar as Lestrade shoved the man into a police car. Sherlock was smirking as he always did. It was absolutely delightful when he caught one.

"Hey there, Freak."

Sherlock cringed internally as Sally Donovan's voice echoed though the alleyway. He put on a bitter smile and turned to face her. "Sally." He greeted her.

The Sergeant stood with her legs akimbo and her arms crossed defiantly across her chest. "Heard John's little girl is out tonight." She said. "Is she going with somebody, or did you scare her date away?"

Sherlock gritted his teeth, but kept his smile. "Actually, she's going with her boyfriend. I like him quite a lot, actually, he's not a complete dick like the last one she had." He wasn't lying, the last one she had, which was over a year ago now, had been a righteous asshole from the start, but John had liked him and Heidi was head over heals. He tried to say something, but by that time, he had already tried to get her in bed twice, which she didn't want. Sherlock realized what was happening right away and _handled_ _it_ as best he could without slaughtering him. He didn't contact Heidi again, and within two weeks, she met Matthew and started playing happy music again. 

Sally gave him a weird look. "Did you and John warn her about staying out late? With the kidnappings and such going on, I know he-"

"We've taken the proper precautions, Sally. She has Lestrade and my brother on speed dial, she has pepper spray, and I trust that her boyfriend will take care of her if anything happens. He's going to be soldier. And, if you weren't so incompetent to forget, I solved the kidnapping case yesterday, so-"

She held up her hands. "I'm just saying, she's a pretty girl, anything is possible. You know people are." She said.

Sherlock whipped around to send a murderous glare at the woman. "Yes, and I've taken care of it. Now, if you would _kindly_ stop making such comments about my daughter, I would very much appreciate it." He snapped, poison dripping from his words. With that, he left the dumbfounded and slightly frightened woman standing alone in the middle street and made his way to John, who was tending to an elderly woman who had been pushed down by the robber. 

"There you go, Mrs. Johnson, just be careful with it, alright?" John was murmuring sweetly to the woman as he finished wrapping her wrist.

Sherlock never got tired of listening to his voice. Even after all of that time, he still loved it. That sweet doctor's voice that children clung to, that women adored, and that Sherlock worshiped. John's voice was like liquid honey in a cup of tea on a cold day. He could listen to it all day.

"Thank you, Dr. Watson." The old woman answered before getting up and leaving the ambulance.

"How's the knee?" Sherlock asked, just as she left.

John leaned up against the ambulance door. He was smiling, but he seemed off. Sherlock knew it was because of Heidi, but he would never say it aloud. "Knee's fine. You ready to get out of here?"

"Of course."

The two laced their fingers together and slipped unnoticed off of the scene.  
**_____________**

Back at the flat, the two sat by the roaring fireplace in the living room, listening to John's favorite Bond in the background as they lounged half asleep across each other on the sofa. John was still watching the clock, although it was barely ten thirty yet and Heidi wasn't coming home until midnight. Every time he did it, Sherlock would snuggle deeper into his shoulder, making him laugh and turn away.

"You need to stop worrying, John." The detective grumbled into his shoulder.

John sighed. "I'm trying, Sherlock, but it's difficult." He replied.

Just as he spoke, the doctor's phone buzzed from the table, indicating a text message. He untangled his hand from Sherlock's hair and reached out for it. Seeing it was a message from Heidi, he sat up quickly, nearly throwing his husband off onto the ground. The detective yelled out in protest, to which John returned with a kiss.

"Sorry, lover, it's Heidi."

Sherlock straightened up and leaned his chin over the doctor's chin to better see.

The message was a picture from Heidi and Matthew at the dance. It was of the happy couple standing side by side against the windows overlooking the river, the setting sun just behind them, sending rays of pink and orange through the gorgeous girl's hair. They were smiling into the camera, their faces capturing the essence of youthful beauty and bliss. They seemed so happy. Matt was a handsome guy, and Heidi was of course, absolutely stunning.

"Wow." Sherlock's voice came out barely above a whisper.

John set the phone down and got up from the sofa to stand by the window. He kept his eyes averted, angling his body just far enough from Sherlock so that he couldn't see. He ignored his partner's calls after him, just continuing to stand by the window, looking at nothing.

Sherlock, knowing what was wrong in an instant, got to his feet and made his way to John. The detective wrapped his arms around his husband's waist, holding him tightly as he buried his face into his shoulder. Sherlock could feel John's breath hitch in his throat, making him hug tighter. "John." He said softly, his voice muffled by the jumper.

"Eighteen, Sherlock. She's nearly eighteen, she will be in a month. I shouldn't react like this, but I just can't believe it. She'll go off to uni and..." John's voice trailed off, and he tried so desperately to hide the tears that we're getting stuck in his throat. "She's not our baby girl anymore, Sherlock."

The doctor's words nearly broke the younger man who was now clinging to him. _Our baby girl._ Instead of hiding them as he would in any other situation, Sherlock let them fall. It was silly to hide them. "It's alright, John." He choked out.

John turned around and pulled him into a hug. They shared the silence, allowing for the other to cry. It was hard, knowing that Heidi was all grown up.

From his place in John's arms, the detective wiped away his own tears and looked down to smile at his lovely partner whose red, puffy eyes matched his. "She turned out great, you know. Everything you've done, she's turned out beautiful, just because of you. Heidi will go off to uni, Matthew will go to the army, when he gets back, they'll get married, and have a great life, just as we have . She'll have her soldier, just as I had mine. The soldier and the investigative journalist. How alike we are." He tried to make John laugh, knowing he needed it.

His trick worked. The doctor laughed, pulling the detective close. "You really think she'll be okay, Sherlock?"

"I have no doubt." Sherlock answered seriously. "She's got Matthew to look after her. Besides, she has two parents who absolutely adore her and will continue to love her until their hearts give out." He recounted the words he spoke that night he held Heidi in the hospital, making both men tear up again.

John Watson pulled the younger man down to his height for a kiss, just as he had done for the last two years. It was gentle, loving, and it still made his heart stop for a few seconds while he still held on.

The two fell asleep on the couch that night while watching a movie, and neither of them were able to hear the door open and close just past midnight when Heidi Watson-Holmes came home from her night. Her hair was still perfect, her dress slightly damp from the rain. Matthew was already driving away, and she still had the perfect smile on her face from when she got back home. She placed her keys on the table and saw her two parents fast asleep on the sofa, and let out a quiet laugh. The young woman tip-toed over to her sleeping parents, pressed a kiss to both of their cheeks, then quietly slipped upstairs to her room.

They were not a typical family by any means, but they loved each other and took care of each other no matter what. After the divorce, Mary sort of disappeared from their life. She had been nearly devastated when Heidi decided she wanted to stay with Sherlock and John, and kicked Heidi out of the house anyway. She still technically had parental rights, but she remained absent from her daughter's life of her own will, which Heidi didn't mind in the slightest. When John asked her why, she had only shrugged and said 'Uncle Sherlock has always taken care of me more than her. He always acted like he loved me more.' John hadn't said another word about it.

Once they moved in, they settled together like a regular family, dinner, movies, except with body parts in the fridge and the occasional swarm of cops to the house to get John and Sherlock to come with them on cases. Although they were older, they still did it, and Heidi was still amazed with what they could do. They had their squabbles, just like every family, especially when it came to Sherlock's method of parenting over John's, no matter how effective it was. At the end of the day, however, they'd all curl up in the living room, her dads' would work on cases and she would do homework-with the occasional correction from the detective-with a movie in the background, all troubles forgotten.

Sherlock never expected himself to be a parent, let alone a proud one, but even as the years went by and he watched Heidi get older and marry and have kids of her own, he never forgot the vow he made that night, and the gravity of the words. Sherlock Holmes was as proud a father as ever, and he loved her until the day his heart gave out in his sleep, only three months after his beloved John Watson.

 


End file.
